After Sigma 04 disintegrated into fragments of existence, the core space of Deus became silent—not silent because it was empty, but because it was preparing to sing something that had never been sung before.
In front of Fitran, the empty frame that had tried to replace him began to emit a pulse of sound.
But this time... it was not the sound of the system. Not a command.
A melody that pierced the silence, a melody.
And not an ordinary melody.
But the second part of the Iron Symphony, a forbidden work of Deus that was said to be played only when the will wanted to let go, not to unite.
The light in the entire room transformed into strands of music—lines that vibrated gently, resembling harp strings singing a song in the void. The floor emitted frequencies that transformed into a sound field. The sky metamorphosed into an unfinished score. From the center of the frame, a stage emerged, as if this world wanted to express its final story in one sincere and meaningful song.
The sky, which had been gray, now shone brightly, as if thousands of stars were born from the emptiness that enveloped it. Each beat of the melody awakened long-buried feelings, creating a magnificent rhythm of life amidst the silence. The sound vibrated around him like a gentle whisper, tempting him to listen deeper—as if the melody was the soul of that space itself.
Fitran stood in the middle of the room, which slowly began to sing, the soft melody spreading around him like morning dew on grass. However, this song... did not welcome. Did not comfort. Did not call him to save anyone.
Instead—this melody asked him to let go.
"Rinoa is calling you... not to be saved."
"She is calling you... to be allowed to go."
In the rumble of the melody, Fitran felt Rinoa's presence growing stronger. The voice flowed gently into his ears, as if flowing in an unbroken stream of time—a rhythm bridging memories and hopes. In an instant, Rinoa's face appeared in his mind, her hopeful smile like a star's light illuminating the darkness within him. He felt as if he was reconnected, his soul colored by an unspoken love, like a fine silk thread binding them both.
Fitran closed his eyes, allowing the melody to surround him, erasing all the fears and doubts that gnawed at him. In the presence of this sound, he knew that letting go did not mean losing—but giving space for miracles to come. With each note that resonated, he felt the bond connecting him and Rinoa, laying the steps for a journey that was meant to begin, an adventure waiting at the threshold of destiny.
Fitran shut his eyes. The fragment of Rinoa's soul within him, which had been his compass from the beginning, began to warm—seemingly ready to release its own form.
Active Magic: Cantata Remissa – Symphony of Release Class of magic
Fitran closed his eyes, letting darkness envelop his senses. Inside him, the fragment of Rinoa's soul that had been his compass from the beginning began to warm—seemingly ready to release its own form. In that silence, he felt a gentle vibration, a kind of resonance flowing through space and time, merging into an invisible symphony. The faint rumble of his memories vibrated softly, guiding every note that crossed his mind; every memory etched with light, dancing in beautiful correspondence, penetrating the deepest recesses of his soul.
Active Magic: Cantata Remissa – Symphony of Release This final-level Voidwright singing magic is an existential ritual designed to return the emotionally bound will to entropy—not as a form of destruction, but as freedom. This symphony can only be sung when the user is ready to let go of all reasons to keep moving forward—yet still chooses to step forward. With each gentle breath, the wind's voice whispered in his ear, urging him to step deeper into the surge of buried feelings. Every sorrow became a note in the melody, vibrating in a harmony that stirred the heart, resonating with deep emotion.
Fitran began to sing. But not with his voice. He sang with his breath, gliding softly in the profound silence. He sang with his steps, each movement depicting the buried resilience. He sang with memories he did not want to repeat, slowly stepping between the shadows of nostalgia that always accompanied him. At that moment, the world around him seemed to blend, the colors of twinkling stars in the darkness enveloping him, encapsulating the pain and beauty inseparable in one fragment of time. Every movement, like a dance of the wind, triggered the urge to fly toward the unimaginable, embracing the preserved memories, even while patiently letting everything go.
"Rinoa..."
"I have come a long way, enduring all of this…"
"But now I know…"
"I do not have to save you."
"Because loving you... does not mean forcing you to stay."
The light around his body changed color. From blue to orange. From orange to clear. And from clear... to invisible. In that magical moment, it was as if the horizon caressed his body, expressing a feeling more profound than mere physical form—a flight toward infinity, merging with the grand universe.
And from the center of the room, slowly... Rinoa appeared.
Not in full form. Only a silhouette of light dancing slowly, creating vibrations that seeped into the soul. Her face was incomplete, appearing hazy in a mystical hue. But her smile... was the last smile Fitran saw before she vanished from the world they once inhabited.
Like dew left on the tip of a leaf, her presence was so ethereal, awakening a deep longing. Every light radiating elegance seemed to carry unspoken messages from the past, when everything still felt whole and joyful.
"Fitran..." she said, her voice like the first wind of a fresh morning, "...you searched for me. But I am no longer here."
"I no longer need to be saved," she added with a calm yet meaningful tone.
"What I need... is someone who is willing to love me... even though I cannot be brought back," she said, highlighting the deep pain of unfulfilled love.
Tears fell from Fitran's face, not tears of sadness. But tears willing to accept loss.
As if every drop of his tears carried the entire burden of lost hope, merging with the flow of time unimpeded by sorrow. Moments passed, suspending fate, creating an eternal moment in the silence that shook the heart.
And he replied:
"If so, then go... and let our love... remain incomplete."
The magic surrounding them reached its peak, transforming the frame of Deus into a window that split the world.
And from behind that window, it was seen:
A world without Fitran. A world without Rinoa. But a world that continued to move on, indifferent to their sorrow.
Among the rows of faded buildings, the shadows of the past vibrated, swaying in the cold wind's roar. The city pulsed as if hearing whispers from lost souls, waiting hopefully to rediscover the footprints that once existed, like a heartbeat wanting to live again after a long pause.
And Rinoa's last voice echoed in the silence:
"Thank you... for not forcing me to remain a story I do not wish to write."
"Now... it is your turn to write something new, for a future yet to be formed."
Rinoa vanished in fragments of wind. The frame surrounding her disappeared, as if swept away by time.
And the Iron Symphony ended... with a long note—silent, revealing the emptiness that echoed throughout the corners of the city.
Fitran stood alone, surrounded by the feeling of loss that enveloped him.
His body was weak, exhausted from the weight of heavy memories. His soul was not full, empty like the space left by those he loved. But his steps... were steady, like a tree that remains upright despite being battered by storms.
As if drawn by an invisible and mysterious force, he stepped forward, feeling a gentle vibration beneath his feet; the earth seemed to whisper wholeheartedly, remembering everything that had once been wagered upon it. With each step, he no longer carried the burden of failure, but rather a new hope ignited like a flame in the darkness.
Beelzebub was gone, the cold wind carried away her existence. Rinoa had left, leaving a mark in his heart. Yet he still carried:
A name, echoing in memory. A meaning, becoming part of his soul. And the courage to love again, even knowing it could end like this, faint and full of risk.